


Merry Christmas, Castiel

by phoenixwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Castiel in the Bunker, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, Human Castiel, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, New Relationship, Post Season 8, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixwings/pseuds/phoenixwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loves having a mission, and he's decided the former angel in the bunker needs to experience Christmas the right way. Unfortunately, Dean's attempts at Christmas traditions don't go according to plan, but somehow it all works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely set post season 8. 
> 
> I can also be found on [Tumblr](http://burningphoenixwings.tumblr.com).

  
Dean loved having a mission, particularly one more pleasant than digging up graves. At the beginning of the month, Sam had suggested keeping their hunts local for awhile. Dean had hemmed and hawed, but reluctantly agreed. His relationship with Cas was new and fresh and Dean admitted it would be nice to take a breather. They had even invited Charlie to come stay with them for the rest of the month into the new year, and she had agreed. There had been some small local hunts here and there—Charlie even tagged along sometimes—but for the most part they stayed around the bunker. Charlie and Cas had even struck up a friendship. Dean thought it was bizarre, especially since Cas still didn’t get most pop culture references and Charlie’s speech was peppered with them, but it did warm him to see two of his favorite people getting along so well. Not that he’d ever actually say that.

And now that their strange, pieced-together family was all at the bunker for the holidays, Dean had decided that he was going to make Cas’ first Christmas as a human awesome. A real tree, baked goods, actual gifts—Dean wanted to give Cas that. To give his family that. He’d tried in the past, with Sam, but it was always hard out on the road. Sneaking into houses to steal gifts for his little brother wasn’t exactly a Christmas highlight for his personal visit by the Ghost of Christmas Past. His first priority was obtaining a tree.

“C’mon Charlie,” Dean pleaded, “I need help picking out a tree.”

Charlie didn’t even bother looking up from her laptop. “Take Sam.”

“He’s too busy drooling over all the books in the library.”

“Cas,” Charlie shot back.

Dean shook his head. “This tree is _for_ Cas."

Charlie did actually peer up over the top of her computer at that.

"I know, I’m a sap,” Dean said, “So?”

“Kevin,” Charlie offered.

“Already asked. Kid just flipped me off.”

Charlie huffed dramatically and slammed her laptop closed. Dean hid a smile. Now they were getting somewhere.

"Fine. I’ll go with you—”

Dean grabbed his jacket.

“IF you watch the Harry Potter movies with me,” Charlie finished, a triumph smirk on her face.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Charlie parroted.

“Yeah, you know, fine. Let’s go.”

“You’ll watch all eight of them?” Charlie asked.

Jeez, how many movies could there be about some poor orphan wizard? The studio must have really been milking that one for all it was worth, but then Dean wasn't even sure exactly how many books there were so it might not have been that much of a stretch. Lucky him, he'd get to find out.

“Yes, Charlie,” Dean said flatly, “If you go with me to pick out a tree, I will watch all eight Harry Potter movies with you.”

Charlie just stared at him.

“What, you want me to sign it in blood or something? C’mon, let’s go.”

Charlie shook her head. “Just wasn't expecting it to be so easy. Okay, let’s go find the most kick-ass Christmas tree ever.”

“There’s my girl,” Dean said with an easy grin that faded into laughter when Charlie rolled her eyes at him.

As soon as they got into the Impala Charlie started teasing him about his music choices, but Dean had grown use to Charlie’s extensive opinions on his music so he mostly tuned her out. Other than Charlie’s commentary on every single song that blared through the Impala’s speakers, the ride to the tree farm was quiet.

The quiet was disturbed as soon as they arrived. The lot was hectic with people trying to find the perfect Christmas tree. Dean observed the options at the front and frowned at the choices. There were a few scraggly trees that Dean immediately discarded as suitable options, but the others all looked fine, if plain. Thick fir trunks and branches with full, deep-green needles. None of them matched the picture he had painted in his mind.

Charlie grabbed his wrist and pulled him further into the trees.

“Let’s go, Winchester,” She said, “Plenty of trees to see.”

They walked row after row. Charlie helpfully pointed out trees she thought met Dean’s criteria, but he rejected them all. As they continued walking, Dean felt a wave of gladness wash over him that he hadn't tried hard to bring Sam, because he knew by this point his brother would have been completely exasperated with him. Charlie seemed unaffected, though that was possibly because they had to strike a bargain to even get this far.

“Hate to break it to you, but we’re sort of running out of options here,” Charlie pointed out after Dean had shaken his head at yet another of her picks.

Dean sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I know, I know. None of these trees are just. . . “ He trailed off, not even sure what he wanted to say. There was only so much variety available when one was picking out trees. They were, after all, _trees._ Dean didn’t even know why he cared so much, because the thing was going to get needles on the floor that would have to be swept up, and of course he’d be the only one around the bunker to actually do it. He’d have to maintain the water and keep it in good health, and then in less then a month it would be time to toss it away. A fake one would be easier.

But no, Dean told himself. This was for Cas. For Cas, and Sam, and Charlie, and Kevin. And himself, too. They were going to have a proper Christmas. And if that meant he had to put a little extra work in, then he’d do it.

“This one?” Charlie suggested again. Dean looked up and was stunned by the height of the tree. It was exactly what he had been picturing, a large tree in the bunker, reaching up towards the vaulted ceilings.

“Finally,” Charlie said when she saw the look on Dean’s face. She stepped closer to the fir. “Now, uh, how do we get this thing back to the bunker?”

Dean grimaced.

It turned out getting the tree back to the bunker took some ingenuity, jumper cables, at least five mumbled “son of a bitch”(Dean), and some cursing in what Dean thought might have been Elvish(Charlie). Dean even stopped and bought a tree skirt on the way home, because that was apparently a thing you did when you had a real Christmas tree and not some poor sapling cut down before it’s time sitting in the corner of a seedy motel room. He’d even bought ornaments, a set of gold and red ones, at a truly insane price.

Once they were back, Dean managed to rope Kevin into helping set up and decorate the tree, so at least there was an extra set of hands. Once everything was in order, Dean couldn't help the warm glow of pride in his chest.

“So?” He asked when they were done. “What do you think?”

“It’s a tree,” Kevin deadpanned. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A real tree might be new for him and Sam, but for Kevin a tree was probably a reminder of Holidays past before he knew angels actually existed and was a hand-picked prophet of the Lord. Dean couldn’t blame the kid for his snark.

“I think it looks like you owe me a viewing of Harry Potter,” Charlie said. Dean just sighed. Well, fine. If they didn’t want to appreciate the new Holiday addition, he’d just go find someone who would. He hadn’t seen Cas or Sam since he’d return to the bunker with Charlie, which meant they were both in the library. How he got saddled with such a pair of nerds, Dean would never know. Sometimes Dean thought they’d never leave the library if he didn’t lure them out with food(Cas) or cases(Sam).

Sure enough, when Dean went to check both Sam and Cas were in the library. Sam was at a table frowning down at a collection of index cards while Cas sat in a corner chair, legs tucked beneath him, reading a book so old the title was worn unreadable.

“You know, if you leave this room it won’t actually disappear,” Dean remarked casually as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

Sam and Cas both looked up—Cas with a bemused expression and Sam with a less pleasant one.

“I’m trying to sort out this system,” Sam explained, holding up an index card, “So far what I’ve managed to piece together has been counter-intuitive.”

Dean tried really, really hard to look interested, but apparently his acting wasn’t that good because Sam just rolled his eyes.

“C’mon,” Dean wheedled as he walked over and clasped Cas on the shoulder, “Put the books away for a minute and come look at the tree.”

“Tree?” Cas repeated.

“Christmas tree,” Dean clarified.

Cas frowned. “But it’s not Christmas yet.”

“People put trees up weeks before Christmas. C’mon, Cas. First Christmas as a human and all, you’ve gotta have a tree. Come see it.”

Cas quirked his head, still slightly confused, but followed Dean anyway. 

“You too,Sammy,” Dean called over his shoulder. Dean led them into the main living quarters of the bunker where they had set up the tree. He glanced between the tree and Sam and Cas, a smug smile on his face. He’d picked a damn fine tree, if he did say so himself. 

“Whoa,” Sam said, “What’d you do, find the tallest tree in the lot?”

Yes, actually.

“Wasn’t easy, finding a tree taller than you,” Dean ribbed. Sam scowled at him. Cas peered at the tree, leaning close to one of the gold ornaments Charlie had strung up earlier.

“These lights and plastic balls are—” Cas coughed, “Customary decorations?”

Yup,” Dean confirmed. Cas coughed again, followed by a series of sneezes. Dean turned fully towards Cas to see that the former angel’s eyes had turned slightly pink and Cas rubbed at the side of his nose, followed by another round of coughing.

“You okay, Cas?” Charlie asked.

“I believe my body is—” Cas sneezed again, then shook his head. “I’m feeling unpleasant.”

Sam looked curiously at Cas, then back at the tree, his eyes going wide with recognition.

“Hey, Cas, come here a sec,” Sam said, pulling on the sleeve of Cas’ shirt and leading him several feet away from the tree.

“Yes, Sam?” Cas asked.

“How do you feel now?” Sam prompted. Cas furrowed his brow in confusion before coughing again.

“Not quite as unpleasant,” Cas replied, but his sentence was still punctured with the occasional cough. Sam frowned at the tree.

“Dude, Dean,” Sam started, “I think Cas is allergic to the tree.”

* * *

 So, fine. Cas had been allergic to the Christmas tree. Dean desperately wanted that afternoon of his life back, but it wasn’t like any of them had known he was allergic. Just another of the delights of being human Cas was getting to experience.

And yeah, Dean had wanted to give his family a proper Christmas, one that didn’t involve buying a huge tree and having to dispose it only hours later so that Cas wouldn’t have to walk around like someone in the first ten seconds of a Claritin commercial. It was just a minor setback, that was all, and Dean had always been good at improvising. That same day he had gone into town and bought the most decked-out fake tree ever created. It didn’t hold a candle to the real thing, but it was still something. Dean would just have to make his next effort better.

After some deliberation, Dean decided that Christmas cookies were a sure thing. He was an awesome cook, even if Sam sometimes teased him about playing housewife, and he didn’t have much experience baking but he was pretty confident he could pull cookies off. He settled on making gingerbread cookies, because chocolate chip and sugar cookies could be made at any time, but gingerbread cookies were a Christmas-specific sweet. He had tried to coax Charlie into helping him, but she had declined since he was still “paying up on her last favor”, as she had put it. They’d only managed to make it through the first three Harry Potter movies so far.

Dean knew he could handle making cookies on his own, but to his surprise, Kevin volunteered to help. Dean hadn’t been able to do much but stand still, shocked, in the kitchen as Kevin started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets. Kevin had slowly been coming around to life at the bunker, but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Team Spirit.

“My mom used to make gingerbread cookies at Christmas,” Kevin commented in an even voice. Dean didn’t reply to that, just handed over the nutmeg, because he gets it—how the little things become what you hold onto for connection. A photo could become your most prized possession and a leather jacket becomes something more than just a jacket. They worked in silence through the afternoon, and Dean didn’t comment on Kevin’s almost pained expression.

Kevin excused himself once the the cookies were popped into the oven, so Dean mixed the icing and decorated the cookies by himself. When he finished, he stepped back and inspected his work. His decoration left some things to be desired, but Dean was pretty sure they would taste just as great, and just because he cooked sometimes now and was with Cas didn't mean he was gonna turn into Martha freaking Stewart.

Once the icing settled, Dean grabbed a cookie and took off to search for Cas. That was the problem with the bunker—it was so large that people could live in it together and hypothetically not see each other for days. He checked the library first, but it was surprisingly empty, so Dean made his way to his room that Cas had mostly moved into. Cas still technically had his own room and it stored what little items Cas owned, but Cas had taken to spending most of his time in Dean’s room. Dean didn’t admit how much that thrilled him.

Dean found Cas sitting on the bed watching something on a laptop, the faint sound of people talking in Spanish emitting from crappy speakers. Ever since he’d fallen, Cas had taken to bad daytime TV shows and telenovelas. 

Dean sat on the side of his bed and waited until Cas paused the show.

“Yes?” Cas asked.

Dean cleared his throat. “Gingerbread man. Another Christmas tradition.”

Cas took the offer treat tentatively.

“Thank you,” He said sincerely before biting off a leg. Cas frowned, thoughtful, before he nibbled at a second bite. He held the cookie back out to Dean.

“I don’t think I like gingerbread very much,” Cas stated. Dean’s face fell. This was not happening again.The tree, that he could handle, but surely cookies were fool-proof.

“Not that your baking isn’t good,” Cas amended, which made Dean perk up slightly. He cradled the now one-legged gingerbread man in his hand.

“So you don’t like gingerbread.”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Well, good to know. I’ll let you get back to Wisteria Lane.”

Dean stood and turned to back to the kitchen and eat five pounds of gingerbread cookies when Cas grabbed his wrist.

“Dean, wait,” Cas said.

“What?” Dean asked. Cas placed a forceful hand at the back of his neck and pulled him back closer to the side of the bed. Cas stretched up and pulled Dean down for a kiss that tasted like nutmeg and cinnamon.

“My dislike of the cookies are not a reflection of your skills.”

Dean pulled Cas’ hand from the back of his neck and squeezed it. “I know. Taste buds must be a strange thing to get used to.”

Cas hummed in agreement before releasing Dean completely and turning his attention back to the show on the laptop. Dean chuckled lightly as he left to let Cas enjoy the rest of the episode without interruption. On his way back to the kitchen, Dean nibbled at the cookie in his hand. He wanted to make sure it was just a matter of taste and not a screwed up recipe that had led to Cas not enjoying the treat. Dean didn’t know what he was thinking, not testing them first. The cookie was delicious—perfectly soft and crumbly once it hit his tongue and spiced just right. Dean almost wished he had messed up the recipe. Cas wasn’t a picky eater. So far, the only things Dean remembered Cas trying and not liking was sharp cheddar cheese and coconut. Figured out of everything Cas wouldn’t like gingerbread.

Though, as the cookies began to vanish from the kitchen over the next few days, Dean took delight in the fact that Charlie and Kevin liked the cookies enough for the batch to dwindle rapidly into nothing but crumbs. He’d just have to figure out something else Cas would like.

* * *

 “Mistletoe,” Charlie suggested.

 “No.”

 “Aww, you don’t think Cas would want to kiss you beneath the mistletoe?” Charlie teased.

 “Okay, first of all, Cas wouldn’t even get it. He couldn’t remember why anyone would put a tree up before Christmas, remember? All he’d do is start talkin’ bout the plant or something. Second, it’s mistletoe.”

 Dean might have struck out with his first two attempts at holiday traditions for Cas, but he hadn’t sunk that low. Yet.

 “Well, what are you going to get him?” Charlie asked. Dean rubbed a hand across his face.

 “I don’t know,” He admitted. “They don’t make gift guides for what to get your former angel, now human, always confused partner."

 Charlie’s smirk turned into a full-on evil grin.

 “Well, there’s always the dirty route.”

 “Charlie,” Dean warned.

 “I could give you some suggestions,” Charlie continued like she hadn’t heard Dean at all.

 Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

 Charlie raised her eyebrows. “You want to test that?”

 “No,” He replied quickly, turning the Impala into the mall parking lot. “Just. . . help me pick out a good gift. And no dirty suggestions, thank you. I’ve got that area covered.”

 “Uh-huh. Sure you do." 

Dean leveled a pointed glare at her, not softening his expression until she threw her hands up in defeat.

“Okay, okay!” She exclaimed. Then her grin returned.

“So what do I get for Christmas?” She asked.

Dean smirked. “I’m paying for your anti-possession tattoo. ‘Bout time we got you inked up.”

Charlie stared at him.

“You already have one tattoo, how bad could it be?” Dean asked.

“Lame,” Charlie announced.

“Fine, I’ll make you a deal. Agree to get an anti-possession tattoo and I’ll pay for that and a second one too. Anything you want.”

Charlie pursed her lips.

“Okay,” She agreed finally, “But I pick the place. Now buckle up, soldier, because we’ve got some shopping to do.”

An hour into browsing the stores, Dean began to think he’d actually prefer digging up graves or being knee-deep in a vamp nest rather than this unique brand of torture that not even Hell could replicate. The mall was chaos, bodies everywhere he turned. Charlie, being smaller, managed to sneak through the crowds mostly unscathed, but Dean had almost knocked down two grandmas. Then there was the same ten Christmas carols that played on a loop over and over gain in every store. Dean decided then and there that next year all shopping would be online. He’d get Charlie to show him all the best deals.

“Charlie, Cas doesn’t need or want any of this crap,” Dean groaned as Charlie dragged him by the wrist to yet another store that sold the same generic, over-priced items.

“You’ll find something,” Charlie promised, but Dean wasn’t sure he still believed it. He was half-tempted to just go the dirty route like Charlie had jokingly suggested, but even as he thought it he knew he wouldn’t. Felt too lazy. Not that Dean was opposed to supplementing an actual gift, though. Dean had plenty of ideas there.

“Well, what does Cas like?” Charlie asked as they entered their tenth store of the day.

“I don’t know,” Dean said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “That’s the thing. Guy hasn’t exactly had time to find out what he likes.”

“He’s been human for a few months now. He has to like something. Other than you, I mean. Let’s hit the next store.”

Dean let himself be led deeper into the mall and into yet another department store. Somehow they ended up in front of a row of telescopes. Dean shook his head before Charlie even had the chance to suggest anything.

“Don’t want to remind him of falling,” Dean explained. He bowed his head and sighed.

“What’d you get him?” Dean asked.

“Some sweaters,” Charlie said. “Dude doesn’t exactly have a large wardrobe.” They’d taken Cas on a few shopping trips to Goodwill and Wal-Mart for clothes, and the former angel was now equipped with clothes for hunting, but Dean had to admit Charlie had a point. It was a good gift. . . From Charlie. Dean wanted something more personal, but they’d been looking for hours and Dean decided to accept the inevitability of his failure.

“C’mon,” Dean said, “Let’s go back and get that rock polishing kit.” Dean turned and walked out of the store, and Charlie jogged to catch up.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” She tried to reason, “The rock polishing kit?”

“Yes,” Dean said tersely, “Rocks are natural. Cas likes nature.”

“Yeah, but wasn’t he kinda around when rocks were first formed?”

“Charlie, Cas was around when everything was first formed. Let’s just go get it.”

* * *

 Sam had made a grocery run the day before, and Dean had told him to pick up some eggnog. The gingerbread fiasco hadn’t turned out so well, but Dean was going to give Christmas tastes another try. Dean had pointedly told Sam earlier that he was not to be involved in the preparation of eggnog, so that took care of Dean’s only real concern. Besides, eggnog was simple and Christmas-y. He mixed a few glasses and carefully balanced them in his hands and the crook of his arm as he went searching for the others. Sam and Kevin were both absent, most likely in their rooms already, but Dean found Charlie and Cas in the main living quarters, both reading.

 “That eggnog?” Charlie asked when she heard him approach. Dean nodded and she grabbed one of the glasses Dean had precariously perched between his arm and chest. He set the other glasses on the end table by the couch and then handed one to Cas.

 “Here, try this Cas,” Dean offered. Cas hesitantly took the glass and frowned down at the thick mixture.

 “It’s a holiday drink,” Charlie explained. “It’s pretty rich though, so be warned.”

 Cas raised the glass to his lips slowly and tilted it up. Dean held his breath as he watched the liquid slowly slide down the cup until it reached Cas’ open mouth. He took a small sip and grimaced. Dean’s shoulders slumped as he read the sour expression on Cas’ face immediately. Cas opened his mouth, no doubt to gently explain why he found this particular taste unpleasant, but Dean interrupted him.

 “Don’t bother,” Dean sighed as he grabbed the glass back from Cas, “I’ll get you a beer.”

 Cas smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling and looking at Dean like Dean was the most delightful thing he’d ever seen even though all Dean had done was offered to replace his experiment with a drink Cas actually liked.

 “Thank you, Dean,” Cas said seriously.

 “Don’t mention it,” Dean mumbled. He walked back towards the kitchen and knocked back the rest of Cas’ eggnog in one swallow.

* * *

 After the eggnog incident, Dean came up with a new personal rule: no more trying to make Cas happy and spirited with food or drink. Dean wasn’t an idiot. He had tried twice, and the unfair laws that governed the universe and Cas’ taste buds had told him no. He wasn’t dumb enough to try that again, but there were plenty of other Christmas traditions to indulge in, so on Christmas Eve Dean got Sam to hook up their projector and DVD player and declared it was a Christmas movie marathon and participation was mandatory for everyone in the bunker.

 “Prophets of the Lord, Men of Letters, former angels, and hacker geniuses are all taking the day off,” Dean had declared, and despite a few weak protests from Sam and Kevin, they all gave in. Dean had made caramel popcorn and spiked more eggnog(and grabbed beer for Cas and Kevin), and they were going to have the best lazy Christmas Eve ever, damn it. He refused to consider any other option.

 It started off well enough. Sam had insisted they begin with _It’s a Wonderful Life_ because it was a Christmas classic, and Dean had grudgingly agreed even if he thought it was too cheesy. If Cas was going to experience the history of human Christmas pop culture, then he did need a complete education. Except as the movie’s opening began to play, Dean felt Cas tense beside him. Then Dean remembered that oh yeah, _It’s a Wonderful Life_ had an angel charged with guiding a human and on top of that the angel’s name was Clarence. He’d forgotten Meg had taken that nickname from this movie. Shit, this was a bad idea.

 “Uh, guys, maybe we should pick something else,” Dean suggested about five minutes into the movie.

 Sam lifted his head up from the other couch.

 “Dean, you agreed,” Sam reminded him.

 “Sam,” Dean pleaded, darting his eyes between his brother and Cas, hoping that Sam would pick up on the hint without him having to say anything. Dean didn’t want to embarrass Cas, and he was sure if it became a matter of discussion Cas would insist he was fine. Dean didn’t want him to have to sit through a movie that could bring up bad memories, especially on Christmas Eve.

 Dean could tell the moment Sam understood because his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly.

 “Oh, yeah, no problem. Hey, Kev, want to pick the next one?”

Kevin reached for the stack of DVDs on the coffee table and then placed one in the DVD player. Dean relaxed as the familiar opening scene of _A Christmas Story_ started. This had to be a better pick than _It’s a Wonderful Life_. 

They watched the movie in silence. When the credits rolled, Cas spoke up.

“I don’t think I liked that very much,” he said.

Dean hung his head and avoided eye contact. Well, okay. They had a whole stack of movies to get through. The bunker was not short on Christmas flicks.

“Why not?” Charlie piped up.

“I don’t know,” Cas said slowly. “I’m not sure. I just didn’t find it enjoyable.”

“Well, it’s good you’re learning what you like,” Sam jumped in. Dean knew that his brother was right, but he wished that just once this month Cas had liked something.

“Next movie,” Dean said quickly before they dwelled too long on Cas’ new humanity and now Cas got to do things like have dislikes and likes now.

Dean’s hopes were dashed after the next movie. And the next one. And the next. Cas, it turned out, had incredibly high standards for Christmas movies and apparently none of the movies reached them. After every one, Dean slumped further and further into the couch, wondering if it would absorb him so he could get out of this situation. By the time they went to bed, Dean felt completely defeated. For weeks he had tried to give Cas the best introduction to Christmas ever and it had been a complete disaster. He’d even redoubled his efforts, but they were only a few hours away from Christmas and nothing had gone right.

At least in another twenty-four hours this would all be over and they could forget about this for the next eleven months.

* * *

 Dean woke to the dip of his mattress as another body joined his. He turned to give Cas a small smile, but before he had the chance he felt a tap at his shoulder. He frowned at the sight of the hand on his shoulder, because the fingers were much too narrow for it to be Cas’ hand. His brain was only beginning to put the pieces together as the last traces of sleep left when Charlie pounced forward.

 “I’ve been sent to wake you,” Charlie declared, her eyes twinkling with barely restrained laughter. 

 There was a chill in the room and Dean suddenly realized he was almost completely naked save for his boxers. He clutched at his blanket tightly and then mentally smacked himself for acting like some chick in a movie.

 “Damn it, Charlie,” He groaned. “What if I had been with Cas?”

Charlie rolled her eyes.

“Well, as you can see, Cas isn’t here, which means he’s out there with everyone else. Now c’mon, get up, I think your Ent of a brother has Christmas morning plans. He was moving stuff in around in the kitchen earlier.”

“Sam’s cooking? Man, I’ve got to see this.”

Pleased that her task had been accomplished, Charlie scampered back out of the room and Dean dressed hurridly, practically skidding down the halls of the bunker in his socks. Ha, maybe one day he’d recreate the scene from _Risky Business_ just to see what brand and variety of bitchface Sam would level at him. Dean put it on his mental to-do list. The smirk he wore lasted all the way he made into the kitchen, but he froze as soon as he saw the rather domestic scene.

Sam had cooked, apparently, if the stacked of red velvet pancakes in the middle of the table meant anything. That was weird enough, because Sam rarely did any of the cooking and when he did he stuck to the basics. Dean didn’t even realize his brother knew how to make pancakes. What was stranger, though, was that everyone else in the bunker was sitting at the kitchen table. Together. At the same time.

No one was pouring over books of lore or reading the newspaper searching for a case. There were no demons tied up in the corners. It was like something out of a _Better Homes and Garden_ magazine. There were even place mats.

Dean wondered briefly if he had been sent to an alternate dimension.

“Uh, Dean? Gonna join us?”

Dean’s head snapped up and he saw his brother looking at him with a strange expression.

“Y-yeah,” Dean stuttered, shuffling towards the empty seat at the table. There was already a stack of pancakes on a plate and a glass of eggnog. Dean took a tentative bite—he appreciated that Sam had done this, but that didn’t mean he had complete faith in his brother’s cooking—but soon the small bites gave way to bigger ones. Dean had no idea where Sam had found this recipe, but whatever it was, he’d done it right, that was for sure.

When the plates held only specks of powdered sugar, Sam made them move towards their tree to exchange gifts. Kevin dished out the presents so that they could all start digging into their piles at the same time. Dean tore into his stack slowly, apprehensive as he kept darting his eyes over to Cas to gauge reactions, but eventually Dean’s curiosity got the better of him and he concentrated on his own gifts. He opened an elaborate new knife from Sam, a box set of the Game of Throne DVDs from Charlie—he was a little amused that she bought them legally—and a set of fancy and specific kitchen utilities from Kevin, including an avocado slicer and a salad spinner. Bit of a hint, that one, Dean thought. Cas was even slower at unwrapping his gifts, so he had only opened one by the time Dean reached for his gift from Cas.

Dean lifted the large, though not particularly heavy box, onto his lap and pulled off the wrapping paper. Once the box underneath was completely exposed, Dean examined his present. The gift turned out to be a full-body heated massaging pad made to go underneath bed sheets. Dean glanced over the marketing slogans on the box and realized the the massage pad was fairly similar to the magic fingers he used to be so fond of in their hotel rooms.

“You’ve started making a home,” Cas said quietly beside him, voice so low that no one else in the room could hear them.

“You’ve started making a home,” Cas repeated, “I wanted you to have the comforts you like to indulge in.”

“It’s perfect,” Dean said, because it was, and it made Dean feel like even more of a dick. Cas got him something so—so personal. Not inherently so, but Cas had picked this gift with careful consideration because he knew Dean, knew the things Dean liked, and had gone out of his way to provide—and Dean had bought him a fucking rock polishing kit. Charlie was right. Cas had been there when rocks were formed. Cas had yet to open his gift and Dean was hit with the desire to rip it out of Cas' hands, but all he could do was sit frozen on the couch.

Dean watched as Cas opened clothing from Charlie and Kevin and a leather journal from Sam. How in the hell had everyone else been better at buying gifts for Cas than him? When Cas finally opened the rock polishing kit, he beamed at Dean so brightly and thanked him so sincerely that Dean almost believed it. He wanted to believe it, but Dean knew his gift was terrible and having Cas pretend it wasn’t made him feel even worse. He had tried so hard all month, but everything had gone all wrong and this was just par for the course.

“I’m sorry,” Dean blurted out. “It’s a terrible gift, Cas, sorry. We can take it back tomorrow—you can pick out something else—anything you want. You like plants, we can make a garden, or bees, you like bees, I’ll build you a. . . Beehouse, or whatever those things are called.”

“Dean,” Cas began, and nope, Dean decided he couldn't do this in front of an audience, so the like the brave and seasoned hunter he is, he bolted from the room, hastily mumbling some transparent excuse under his breath. Dean knew Cas was following him and probably wanted to talk, but at least it wouldn’t be in front of Sam, Charlie, and Kevin. Cas caught up to him in the hallway right outside of Dean’s bedroom. Dean opened the door to his room and held it wide, wordlessly letting Cas inside.

Dean shut the door and Cas moved in closer, bringing a hand up to cup Dean’s face.

“Dean,” Cas said again, “What’s wrong?”

Dean turned away and pulled out of Cas’ gentle hold.

“I gave you a crappy gift,” Dean explained, “This entire month, it’s just been bad.”

Cas squinted at him. “I’ve enjoyed this month, Dean. Why would you think otherwise?”

Dean turned back around and stared at Cas. “I mean—the tree and the eggnog and the gift—it just wasn’t good, man. It was supposed to be a real Christmas and I just kept messin’ it up.”

Cas tilted his head. “Is that what you’ve been doing all month? Trying to have a ‘real’ Christmas?”

So Cas still had a penchant for air quotes. Good to know.

“Yeah. You’re human now, and it’s your first real Christmas so I just thought. . . but none of it worked.”

Cas smiled. “I’ve liked it.”

Dean shook his head. “You don’t have to pretend, Cas. It’s okay, I just kinda suck at this whole holidays thing.”

Cas frowned at that.

“I’m not pretending,” Cas said, adamant. “It’s been pleasant to see you so comfortable in a place you’ve made a home. And I’ve appreciated your efforts to help me explore this time now that I’m mortal.”

Dean snorted. “My shitty efforts, you mean.”

“Caring efforts,” Cas countered. “You’re forgetting I’m not the only one new to this. You’ve never had a chance to celebrate before. I’m glad you’ve had this opportunity Dean, for yourself, even if it didn’t work out the way you had hoped.”

“So, what, you’re saying I needed Christmas training wheels?”

“No,” Cas replied, lips quirked up in a smile, “Just that perhaps next year we can explore those traditions together.”

“Next year?” Dean repeated. Cas glanced away before returning his gaze to Dean.

“If I’m still welcomed,” He said evenly. Dean swallowed hard as he spotted the thin traces of anxiety written over Cas’ feature. Their. . . _thing_ , relationship, whatever it could be called was still new, but Dean thought Cas had realized the depths of his commitment. Dean reached out to grab Cas’ hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“Next year,” Dean agreed. “How many years do you think it’ll take the two of us to get it right? Ten? Twenty?” Dean kept his voice light and teasing, but he silently willed Cas to understanding the meaning behind them. Dean wasn’t going anywhere.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, and Dean knew. He dipped his head slightly so that his forehead was resting against the top of Cas’ head.

“I still want to get you another gift, though,” Dean murmured. “What do you want, Cas? Garden? A bee. . thing?”

“I like your gift,” Cas reassured, “But a garden does sound nice.”

Dean chuckled. “Garden it is then. First thing tomorrow, I swear.”

Cas hummed happily and Dean placed a finger underneath Cas’ chin, tipping it up slightly. He let himself simply gaze into bright blue eyes before he kissed Cas, sweet and slow.

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean whispered when he pulled back. Cas leaned forward and rested his head against Dean’s shoulder, mumbling his reply into the fabric of Dean's shirt.

“Merry Christmas, Dean."

 


End file.
